


lend a hand

by steponherneck (gangbangs)



Category: iKON (Kpop)
Genre: Canon, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 04:17:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3194996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gangbangs/pseuds/steponherneck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>bobby's idea of helping might be exactly what junhwe needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lend a hand

It's an accident really, Bobby walking in. He'd left his sneakers in the practice room, and after having been scolded by the cleaning staff, he knew better than to just wait until tomorrow. He doesn't quite mean to stand in the doorway, mouth dry as he watches, possibly waiting for Junhwe to notice he’s there. Bobby’s seen Junhwe's dick before, shared mutual showers being what they were, but this is different.  
  
Bobby's cock twitches in his sweatpants and he decides that maybe he shouldn't be staring at Junhwe while he's got his hand wrapped around his cock, jerking motions slower than anything Bobby would enjoy. He's about to close the door, too, when Junhwe's head falls forward and he freezes, eyes wide as they stare at Bobby.  
  
 _Fuck,_  Bobby thinks, not sure what to do with his face, but almost positive that the attempt at a reassuring smile is not what Junhwe wants to see.  
  
"Are you fucking serious?" Junhwe snarls, cheeks already red from his exertion but deepening in colour, blush sinking down his neck. Bobby's seen Junhwe shirtless more times than he can count but he's never quite wanted to see the flush of Junhwe's skin with such a burning need before. his cock twitches, again.  
  
"Uh," Bobby starts, but he doesn't really have a response to anything that's going on, brain sort of short circuiting because while Bobby won't necessarily say this out loud, Junhwe's got a nice dick. The sort of dick Bobby hears girls want.  
  
Junhwe's jaw clenches before he growls, "Can you at least close the fucking door!"  
  
Bobby scrambles to it, heart beating too loudly in his chest and he smiles crookedly at Junhwe, knows his eyes have all but disappeared. There's a hot flush in his cheeks, and in all honesty, Bobby was fifteen when he touched his own dick for the first time, out from under his mother's roof, the fear of god somehow drained out when Hanbin had shown him porn for the first time. At the back of his mind, he wonders how old Junhwe was.  
  
Junhwe mutters something dark under his breath before he pushes his dick back into his sweats, cockhead squeezed between skin and the band of his underwear. Bobby doesn't think, it's not really a habit of his -- thinking, before he pushes off the door. "Wait."  
  
The tension in Junhwe's body is electrifying, the awkwardness Bobby expects to stifle the room not there. Junhwe doesn't move, eyes locked with Bobby's as Bobby makes it all the way over to the chair Junhwe's sat in, legs still spread open. Bobby can see the outline of Junhwe's cock through his sweatpants and he wonders how Junhwe thought he was going to go home like that. His cock twitches, semi-hard, wanting.  
  
"I can help," Bobby offers, palms sweaty as he rubs them against his hoodie. His throat feels dry, mouth drier.  
  
" _What?_ "   
  
Junhwe's always been difficult, always distant. Bobby knows he's an open book, everything gushing out of him like waves, but Junhwe keeps everything close to him, secrets locked away in rooms Bobby can only imagine. Bobby knows not everyone has to like him, and it isn't as though Junhwe doesn't but.  
  
"I can help. With your, uh, problem."  
  
"You want to touch my dick," Junhwe says slowly, voice caught somewhere between disbelief and curiosity. Mostly Bobby just notes that he isn't repulsed by the idea.  
  
"Yeah, if you want, I mean, you know." He's more eloquent than this, really.  
  
Junhwe's lips purse, brows furrowed together. The stiffness in his shoulders is strung like a chord, and Bobby takes a chance, wanting to pluck it, let it go. Shuffling closer, Bobby presses his knee against Junhwe's leg. Junhwe doesn't react, at least not in the way Bobby’s expecting. There's no rejection, no pulling away. Junhwe just sits there, still. Bobby wonders if he's breathing.  
  
He takes another chance, hands itching to touch the smooth stretch of Junhwe's neck. Letting his fingers curl around the nape of Junhwe’s neck, Bobby straddles Junhwe in one go, breath caught in the back of his throat.  
  
"I didn't even say yes," Junhwe comments but Bobby laughs, daringly plants a kiss against Junhwe's jaw before he palms Junhwe through his sweatpants.  
  
"I can see an open invitation when there is one," Bobby murmurs, watches Junhwe's body sag against the chair. It couldn't be comfortable but Junhwe's got his lip caught between his teeth, Bobby's fingers stroking his cock through cotton.  
  
"Do you just invite yourself to jerk everyone off?" Junhwe huffs, eyes half-lidded, and fuck if Bobby won't be jerking off to that image for the next month.  
  
"Nah," Bobby grins, "just you."  
  
Junhwe's hand digs into the material of Bobby's hoodie and he smirks, pushing Junhwe's sweats down, finger pulling at the waistband of Junhwe's underwear before dragging it down. Junhwe's cock is thick in Bobby's hand, curved upwards and so hard, Bobby isn't sure how he hasn't come yet.   
  
There's a hitch in Junhwe's voice as Bobby lets his thumb drag over the head, a finger rubbing along the underside. Precum leaks from the head, and Bobby lets it lather up in his hand, finally stroking Junhwe's cock. Purposefully slow, Bobby watches Junhwe’s lashes flutter shut, thinks, fleetingly, what it would be like to kiss the bliss off of Junhwe’s face. It's still too dry, even with Junhwe's precum, but it's not like Bobby carries around a bottle of moisturizer. He goes with the next best thing: spitting into his hand, Bobby picks up his pace.  
  
"That's fucking gross," Junhwe cries, horrified but Bobby's uncouth, always has been. Besides, Junhwe's hand is still fisted in Bobby's hoodie, breathing laboured as Bobby works him up, wrist twisting as his hand moves from base to tip. Junhwe's quiet through his arousal, something Bobby finds utterly captivating, what with the way Junhwe's mouth keeps hanging open as he catches moans in his mouth, little sighs escaping through plush lips. Maybe he's only quiet because it's Bobby, but there's this urge to find out, except Bobby's not sure Junhwe's going to let him do this again.  
  
Junhwe's got his lip caught between his teeth again, chest heaving as he breaths. Bobby's hand never stills, the other wrapping around the back of Junhwe's neck. He lets it trail forward, traces Junhwe's jaw until his thumb teases out Junhwe's lip. Junhwe's eyes are unreadable, pupils dilated as he lets Bobby push his thumb past his lips. He sucks on it obscenely, hand working it's way past Bobby's hoodie and shirt, until it meets skin. Bobby lets out a groan, throaty and deep, and Junhwe's cum splatters over his hand, a drop landing near the corner of his mouth. He doesn't stop stroking, keeps pumping Junhwe's cock until there's nothing left.  
  
Bobby looks up at Junhwe, thumb sliding out of his open mouth. Junhwe looks spent, eyes barely open as he stares at Bobby. Bobby does the only thing he can think of, he licks the come near his mouth and watches as Junhwe's eyes widen before wiping his hand clean on Junhwe's t-shirt.  
  
"You're fucking gross," Junhwe grumbles, nose scrunched up.   
  
Bobby laughs, tucks Junhwe's dick back into his pants and gets off of him. His cock is aching, and he’s gonna need a really cold shower when he gets back to the dorm. "Is that any way to thank the guy you'll be fantasizing about for the next week? Not to mention that really great handjob."  
  
"Fuck off," Junhwe spits, eyes narrowed as he looks around the room for anything to wipe the jizz off his shirt. There's really nothing.   
  
Shaking his head, Bobby pulls off his hoodie, left bare in his thin black t-shirt, and hands it to Junhwe. "Here."  
  
“Thanks," Junhwe mumbles, suddenly unable to meet Bobby's eye. "I owe you one."  
  
Bobby snorts before he adjusts his junk and goes to grab his sneakers. His hand feels sticky. He tries not to think about the ways Junhwe can pay him back, namely on his knees with Bobby’s cum splattered across his face. Biting his lip, Bobby grumbles as he makes it out of the room, Junhwe’s shadow trailing after him.  
  
It was going to be a long night.


End file.
